Culture Clash
by slvrhvk
Summary: There are many things about the Mirkwood lifestyle that Rivendell elves despise. Sitting on the roof is one of those. Sharpening knives in public is another.


Warm sunlight spilled over the hills and into the halls of Rivendell, casting a yellowish glow that reflected off the waterfalls and engulfed all who walked within. There was a general discomfort among most of the elves that lived there, partially due to the representatives who had gathered for the council their Lord had called, another part because of the ring which was being kept there.

And for some, it was due to the blonde elf perched on the roof of one of the halls.

There were murmurs and stares, the occasional pointed finger, as was the nature of the dark haired elves living in Rivendell, but no one made any attempts to ask him to get off the roof. They seemed almost nervous, most likely because of the knives strapped to his back, or possibly because he was an elf of the Mirkwood Forest. And Mirkwood was very different from Rivendell.

Sam was just passing by when they saw a cluster of three dark haired elves on small open balcony, whispering among themselves as one played the lyre to try and disguise their voices. He wasn't going to pay them any mind, but he was intrigued when he saw one point upward discreetly, so he glanced around briefly and shuffled over to the group.

"What're you looking at, then?" he asked the one who had pointed, Lindir, trying to keep his voice quiet. Lindir pursed his lips a bit, and his eyes flitted nervously upward. Sam followed his glance, and saw the cause of their discomfort. "Well that's just another elf, innit? I mean he's sitting on the roof, but he's just an elf."

"That's not just any other elf, Samwise Gamgee," another whispered, kneeling down so she was close to his ear. The lyre continued to play, most likely blocking out their conversation to any other ears. "That's the heir to the throne of Mirkwood." Sam's eyes widened and he turned to stare at the elf on the roof, mouth hanging open, but the she-elf cupped his face to quickly move his eyes back to her. "Do not stare, Samwise."

"You're all nervous because he's a prince?" he asked, confused, and he jerked a casual thumb over his shoulder. "None offense meant, but he doesn't exactly look much like a prince to me."

Lindir and the she-elf both put a finger to their lips, shaking their heads rapidly. "Do not let him hear that. I have heard rumors that elves of the Mirkwood forest can be dangerous when provoked," the she-elf whispered, and Sam looked back up to Lindir and the elf playing the lyre, both of whom nodded in agreement.

"They are absolutely revolting there," the lyre-player murmured, voice almost melodic against his instrument. "I hear they make sport of killing the spiders and orcs that wander their woods. Cave dwellers, that's what they are. Barbaric cave dwellers."

Sam furrowed his brow curiously at the lyre-player, turning to speak to him. "I didn't think elves ever lived in caves. In fact I think you're all too pretty to be doing that," he whispered, earning a warm smile from the she-elf kneeling before him, and Lindir pursed his lips once again.

"The dark elves," he sighed, glancing briefly back up at the elf on the roof. "It is undignified to sit on a roof like that. Not to mention rude and menacing. Leave it to a pale head, I suppose."

When the comment earned a few quiet chuckles from the other two, Sam looked up at Lindir once again in confusion. "Pale head?" he inquired, not understanding the joke he had apparently made.

"Lindir refers to the fair hair of the Mirkwood elves, nothing more. It was a childish jab," the she-elf explained, a slim hand on Sam's shoulder. "None of us have the courage to ask him down off the roof, however revolting we find it."

The hobbit looked back up to where the blonde elf sat, eyes narrowing slightly. "He does look rather scary..." Sam muttered, and the other three elves nodded in agreement. "And it's true they fight orcs?"

"Every day, so I hear. Man sized spiders as well," Lindir said, shaking his head as if disappointed. "Now you see why we are put at unease by his presence."

Sam turned back to the she-elf, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I get it now. I'd be right scared too," he agreed, and the group all glanced up at the prince on the roof once more, nearly shivering at the sight of the shining daggers strapped to his back. "I guess he'll just stay up there until he pleases, then. I certainly wouldn't want to be the one to ask him down. In fact, I don't think anyone would be brave enough to ask him down."

"LEGOLAS GREENLEAF, REMOVE YOURSELF FROM ATOP MY ROOF AT ONCE!" bellowed a voice from across the hall, and all four in the small cluster straightened up, the lyre ceasing to play. Sam watched in mild horror as the blonde elf on the roof looked up and stood, leaping nimbly off the edge of the roof and swinging around to drop lightly on the ground. Walking down the hall, to the hobbit's surprise, was Lord Elrond himself.

And even more surprising was when the dark haired elf-lord came to a stop in front of the blonde elf from the roof, both wearing broad smiles. "How many times do I have to tell you, boy, if you wish to find a vantage point go to the hill. You're bringing great discomfort to my people," Elrond scolded, shaking his head with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I apologize, my lord, it is a ruthless force of habit," the blonde responded, bowing his head slightly, grin still planted on his face. Sam glanced slightly over at the other three elves he had been speaking with, to see uncertain fear riddled across their features. "Is Aragorn around?" he asked after a moment, his eyes flickering toward the group with a playful glint. "I thought he may wish to wrestle some spiders with me, you know, as we do in the Mirkwood Forest."

Elrond chuckled fondly, putting a hand on the blonde elf's shoulder. "Aragorn is in my study. All the guests were setting him at a great unease. Perhaps you would make good company," he said, and the blonde elf nodded firmly, before dashing toward the balcony and vaulting back onto the roof. Elrond rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple. "Do not run on my damned roof, Legolas, you barbarian! Ugh, you simply cannot reason with the spawn of Thranduil..."

"Well he didn't seem too scary," Sam observed as they watched Lord Elrond leave the hall. "You all had no reason to be so frightened, did ya? You ain't never even met the bloke and you're already accusin' him of stuff!"

Lindir shrugged. "I met him several times before. He was rather unpleasant. Always either fighting or consuming wine, that is my memory," he hummed, and Sam had barely noticed that the lyre had begun to play again.

"You folk are just as judgmental as everybody back in the Shire, you are," he grumbled, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "I bet he could hear us the whole time we were talking! How would that make you feel? Not very damn good, would it?"

The she-elf's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, and she knelt back down beside Sam. "We meant no harm, Samwise. Mirkwood is simply very different from Rivendell. Despite our many years of life and experience, it's the one place we dare not venture," she said gently, putting a slim hand on his shoulder.

Sam sighed, smiling a bit. "I didn't mean to get all worked up, ma'am. I just know how much words hurt, that's all," he shrugged, and the she-elf leaned forward to give him a soft kiss on the forehead.

"You have a kind heart, Samwise Gamgee. Do not let anything change that."

She stood, and the three elves gave warm smiles to Sam before floating off down the hall, the music of the lyre fading out as they disappeared. "I'll try, ma'am," Sam muttered to himself, remembering the words she had left him with, "I'll certainly try."


End file.
